“It’s a statue. Of a horse.”
“It’s also a portal.”
“It’s made of rock. I must be crazy. Following some apparition to a high school statue in the middle of the night on Christmas.”
“I’m an apparition, then? Which kind? An undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, or a fragment of underdone potato?”
The professor snorted in amusement at the literary reference, a reluctant laugh slipping out as the two of them stood, side by side on the frozen concrete, staring at the statue.
“I’m not sure I like that comparison very much.”
“Too bad, Miss Scrooge. You brought it on yourself.” Sunset stepped forward, reaching out to the concrete that formed the equestrian statue’s plinth. She didn’t touch it; she knew that this was something that Professor Shimmer had to try for herself.
“Right. So all I have to do is reach out and touch it, I guess?”
“I think so. The portal will respond to anybody with magic. I think it will respond to you.” Sunset shrugged. “We’re connected, after all. For obvious reasons.”
Professor Shimmer snorted again. She held out her hand, covered in a fine faux-calfskin glove, and looked at her fingers. Sunset waited, barely able to breathe. Finally the professor grunted, pulled the glove off her fingers, and brushed them against the concrete.
“Nothing,” she breathed, and Sunset’s heart sank as the professor’s voice grew bitter. “I don’t know what I thought would happen. Very well, imposter. You’ve made a fool out of me. Now tell me where the hidden camera is and give me your lawyer’s phone number. My lawsuit will be—”
Then it happened. There was a cerulean spark of light, and the professor’s fingers sank into the concrete. She hissed in horror, jerking back so quickly she fell back onto her butt before Sunset could catch her.
“What was—”
“Here,” Sunset offered a hand. The professor glared at her, before taking it so Sunset could help her to her feet.
Too late Sunset remembered the professor had taken her glove off.
There was a flash of light, and the world became white. Blank. A million memories, a million points of light, shining so bright everything else disappeared.
Sunset saw the professor writing her letter as a child.
She saw the set of her jaw as little Sunset brushed tears of disappointment from her eyes.
She saw a slightly older child, shoving a classmate against a wall, an intimidating sneer painted over her lips.
She saw a teenaged Sunset, a seductive smile on her lips, teasing a boy as she whispered nefarious plots in his all-too-eager ear.
She saw an older Sunset, cornering one of the professors on her dissertation committee, showing him a few photographs while he shrank back, a look of fear in his eyes.
…
She saw Sunset, alone, in an austere, anodyne apartment, sitting on her couch, staring out the window, a half-empty bottle of gin in her hands. There was nobody else there.
Sunset blinked as the brightness cleared from her eyes, looking around. The professor was on her feet, but her eyes were wide with panic, darting about like a terrified animal.
“What…” She panted, holding her ungloved hand to her chest. “What… what did I see? WHAT DID I SEE?!”
“I… I don’t know.” Sunset was panting herself. “If I had to guess, though, I’d say something about the portal shared a bit of my power with you. You saw me, didn’t you?”
“You… you really are a unicorn. You weren’t lying. Shit, you weren’t lying.” Her whole body was shaking, and she pointed at a spot in the grounds. “It was right there. You were right there. The crater, where Twilight and the others… and she… she lifted you and…”
“Shh, relax,” Sunset took a risk, wrapping her arms around the other woman, being careful not to touch skin to skin again. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It takes some getting used to, after the first time. Plus, it was a little intense for me. Do you need a minute?”
“A minute? I think I need a lifetime!” Professor Shimmer was hysterical. “There’s a whole other world! With ponies! And magic! Unicorns and dragons and…”
Sunset couldn’t help but snicker.
“Everything you wished for as a child. And you can go over. See for yourself. That magic? It can be a part of you, Sunset Shimmer. If you let it.”
“What do you mean?” She sounded shaky, her voice muffled by Sunset’s parka. “If I let it?”
“Equestrian magic is a part of you, because of me, I think. And you can choose to let it in. But Equestrian magic is the magic of friendship. Of trust and affection, love and compassion. You saw the crater. You saw what happens to those of us who try to seize it. Abuse it. Control it. That’s… that’s what I wanted to spare you. That pain and humiliation.”
“I… I don’t know how to change.”
Sunset held out her counterpart at arm’s length. The whimpered admission, still fresh in her ears, seemed to lurk in Professor Shimmer’s eyes. They seemed to be at war, a churning mix of embarrassment and fear, curiosity and hope.
“It’s a lot easier if you have friends to guide you,” Sunset whispered.
“And… you’re offering?” Hope was threatening to spill out, but Sunset could tell she was holding it back. Barely.
“I am.” Once again she hugged her other self. “I know you wrote that letter to Santa over a decade ago. I’m sorry it took so long for your magical unicorn to reach you.”
She felt the professor begin to shake. Whether for laughter or sobs, Sunset didn’t know.
But as the two women stood, embracing, laughing or crying or both, they seemed to hear on the air the soft, icicle sound of tinkling bells on the wind, and a low, deep, satisfied chuckle.